Surviving
by Katt9966
Summary: An episode tag for "Dragonchasers" and my first attempt at a song fic -- eekk!


Title: - Surviving.

Author: - Katt.

E-mail: - kattanon@hotmail.com

Rating: - PG-13.

Feedback: - Like it or loathe it let me know.

Archive: - If you'd like it I'd be honoured, just let me know. Archived at the Shield Fanfiction Archive.

Disclaimers: - I don't own any of the characters of The Shield, they all belong to Shawn Ryan and FX. 

The song "Thank You" was written by Jamelia Davis, Carsten Schack and Peter Biker, and published by BMG Music, Full of Soul Music, EMI Blackwood (BMI) and EMI Cassadida.

Authors Notes: - The song "Thank You" is by Jamelia and, I believe, describes a past relationship with an abusive ex-boyfriend. However, the words ring true for anyone who has survived an abusive relationship, be it with a boy/girlfriend or a parent. The best revenge is not to allow yourself to live your life as a victim, but to take your past and use it to make yourself stronger.

Surviving.

Dutch had finally arrived home after the long, draining hours he'd spent ensuring he'd ensnared Sean Taylor, and ensuring justice, and hopefully peace for Sally and his other victims. He'd had a hot shower, and was now sitting in his living room clutching a mug of long gone cold tea, staring at the blank screen of his silent television. He was physically exhausted, and yet mentally his mind was in a whirl, not letting him rest. His nerves, his emotions felt raw and exposed. Thoughts, memories, feelings all vying within him, all clamoring for his attention. Unable to stand the external silence, hoping to drown out the jangling voices inside him, he reached out for the remote and flicked on the TV. Dutch hoped for distraction. He didn't care what he watched, and so randomly pressed a series of buttons, choosing any channel. It was a music station, and leaning back and closing his eyes, Dutch let the beat of the music and the words of the woman's song wash over him.

__

"The fights, those nights,

I tried to pretend it don't hurt,

The way I prayed someday that you would love me,

Really, completely that's how I wanted it to be,

But no, so wrong, can't believe I stayed with you so long.

You hit, you spit, you split every bit of me,

You stole, you broke, you're cold, you're such a joke to me.

For every last bruise you gave me,

For every time I sat in tears,

For the million ways you hurt me,

I just want to tell you this,

You broke my world. Made me strong, thank you,

Messed up my dreams. Made me strong, thank you."

Jesus, it had been so hard, so hard standing firm in his belief that Sean Taylor was the killer. Even Claudette had been skeptical, and as for everyone else. The constant teasing, the jibes from jerks like Carlson and Jackson, Vendrell and Lemansky. He'd tried to brush them off, tried to ignore them. Either giving them a tight smile in response, or turn away and refuse to acknowledge their words, their laughter. However, it hurt. Each unkind, sneering barb piercing his heart, twisting a little deeper with each snigger each whispered joke.

It had been so hard to keep faith with his own instincts. Dutch wasn't a fool, he had long ago looked into himself and seen his failings, he didn't need a sick psychopath like Taylor to psychoanalyse him. He knew he had self-esteem issues, he knew his belief in himself was fragile. What he hadn't been aware of was the fact that his weaknesses were so transparent to everyone around him. Claudette hadn't been able to look him in the eye in the interrogation room. She'd been unable to lie, unable to deny that she believed everything Taylor had written about him on the whiteboard.

Thank God Taylor hadn't been able to see the whole truth about who he was, what he was. For a moment however, Dutch had thought he had when Taylor had asked him,

"How does your father feel about the way your life's turned out?"

Then Dutch had lied,

"He's proud of me."

"Sure that's what he says to your face."

Little did Sean know that he'd only scratched the surface with his digs, if he'd been able to perceive the truth, if it wasn't a secret that Dutch had buried so deep inside himself. God, Dutch didn't even want to think about what Taylor would have said, would have done if he'd known the true nature of Dutch's childhood, of his relationship, could that even be the word used to describe what had existed between himself and his father? No it wasn't a relationship; it was something colder, harsher. Interaction perhaps that was the correct phrase to use. Dutch's interaction with his father was the key to his passion, his determination to catch the animal that'd hurt Sally, who'd violated and hurt a child.

__

"My head, near dead, just the way you wanted it,

My soul, so cold, cause I was under your control,

So young, so dumb, knew just how to make me succumb,

But I understand, to make yourself feel like a man.

You hit, you spit, you split every bit of me,

You stole, you broke, you're cold, you're such a joke to me.

For every last bruise you gave me,

For every time I sat in tears,

For the million ways you hurt me,

I just got to tell you this,

You broke my world. Made me strong, thank you.

Messed up my dreams. Made me strong, thank you."

However, he'd done it, he'd been right, and Taylor would be locked away unable to hurt anyone again. Dutch remembered the look of pride on Claudette's face when she'd looked at him when Taylor had found himself trapped and had confessed, trying to boast. He remembered her affectionate tap on his back as they'd gone down the stairs. He remembered the applause, the respect of his colleagues, of Vic Mackey. Despite all this Dutch had still felt achingly raw when he'd finally made it out to his car. Everything, all the jumble of confused emotions, had momentarily become too much and had spilled over into tears. However, as always Dutch had pulled himself together, as always he'd regained control.

That was something Dutch had learnt to do a long time ago, keep control. There had been a time, in his late teens, when events, experiences, had nearly conspired to destroy him. It had been a dark time, full of guilt and shame, hurt and dark self-destructive thoughts and feelings. He'd come through it though, he'd decided to take his pain and use it to make himself stronger. He'd decided not to let his father win, not to let his father destroy him. That was why Dutch knew he'd pull himself together, and get up in the morning and go to work, face the new challenges that would be waiting for him.

Feeling calmer, a little perspective returned to his world, he finally felt he'd be able to rest. So switching off the television, and stifling a yawn, Dutch made his way to bed secure in the knowledge that if he'd managed to survive his father, surviving his encounter with Sean Taylor would be nothing.


End file.
